Chasing All Those Stars
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Draco knows who his soulmate is, but he figures he's the last person she wants to see. Two years after the war, Hermione shows him just how wrong he was. Dramione soulmate!au. For Lyrrie.


**A/N: Hey y'all! (Forgive me, as this is my first time not drabbling the pairing)**

**For my darling Lyrrie. Happy late birthday, love.**

**Dramione, soulmate!au**

**Word Count: 1529**

**WARNINGS: Mentioned canon injury, tiny bit of language**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

**Enjoy!**

Draco pulled down the sleeves of his shirt until he was sure the name on his wrist was covered completely. He avoided looking at it as much as possible, because the name didn't belong to anyone he thought might give him the time of day.

It was a cruel joke of the universe's that he had ended up with Hermione Granger as a soulmate. It had been quite the nasty shock to wake up on his seventeenth birthday and realize that the girl he'd bullied relentlessly for years was the only one capable of loving him.

Now, two years after the end of the war, he wished more than anything that he hadn't made such a mess of things. He could really use some love right now.

But it would be another lonely day for him. Draco tried to convince himself that he didn't care. It didn't work.

With a sigh, Draco finished buttoning up his shirt and shrugged on some robes. He had managed to secure a desk job at the Ministry—one he was overqualified for, but it was the best he could do after his role in the war—and he didn't want to be late.

And if he left now, he'd miss Granger coming in.

Draco quickly ran a comb through his blond hair, and was then out the door.

* * *

Granger had broken schedule. It was, in fact, so unlike her that Draco merely stood there dumbly for a few seconds, staring at her, uncomprehending. Her hands were on her hips, and her brown eyes were narrowed in fury.

Hell. She had him cornered.

"Granger," he said cooly, attempting to keep his voice emotionless, "you're in the way."

"That, Draco, is exactly the point."

She'd been looking for him, then. He searched his mind for a possible explanation, but came up empty. They hadn't spoken to each other since the end of the war—the most interaction they'd had was brief eye contact when passing each other in the hallways. There was no reason she might come looking for him, unless she was trying to pursue the soulmate bond; his name was bound to be printed on her wrist.

But if she'd been even remotely interested in that, she'd have approached him long before now.

Draco cleared his throat, schooling his features into something resembling polite disinterest. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

Granger sighed heavily. "Come with me," she requested in a less harsh voice. "I have something I want to discuss with you."

She began to walk away, and for a moment, Draco considered heading the other way and letting the crowd swallow him up. Granger would hardly be able to chase after him; she was in the running for Minister of Magic, and ministers didn't run through crowds looking for lost ex-Death Eaters.

Then he remembered the woman's incredible perseverance and decided that it just wouldn't be worth the effort. Besides, he was curious as to what she wanted. Discovering the truth would require some exploration. He followed her.

She led him to her office, but he didn't let his surprise show on his face. He didn't have the upperhand here, but he was determined to maintain some semblance of control. Once the door had swung shut behind them, he spoke.

"What, may I ask, am I doing here?"

Hermione frowned at him. After a few seconds, she rolled up the sleeves of her navy blue robes and tapped her wrist. Draco didn't have to look to know what she was pointing at.

"Explain this to me, Draco," she said softly.

He swallowed thickly. "I always thought you were too clever to need outside help."

"This isn't a joke to me. Don't treat it as such."

Draco glanced at her, lifting a brow. "Still so bossy, Granger."

She lifted her own brow. "Still so elusive, Malfoy. Answer my question."

Draco turned his gaze to the window. He stood stiffly, unsure of how to proceed. He didn't want to be here, to be tempted by promises that might not have any foundation—the universe may have bonded them from birth, but he had free will. And what he'd chosen to do with that had not impressed Granger in the slightest.

"It's a soulmate mark, Granger. I'm assuming you know what that means." His grey eyes were piercing as he glanced her way. "If you want a more specific answer, I suggest you ask a more specific question."

Granger inclined her head to him. "Fine. If we're soulmates, Draco, why haven't you approached me? If this isn't something you want, you should just say so."

Draco stilled. He could feel his heartbeat quickening, until the pounding was audible to his own ears. "You… want to…" _Enter a relationship with me?_ "Consort with me?"

Granger snorted, then sat heavily down in a chair. She looked exhausted, and Draco hated himself just a little bit for noticing. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing, Draco."

"I don't know what you want from me." That, at least, was the truth.

Granger turned her brown-eyed gaze to him, and Draco found that he couldn't look away. He'd seen these same eyes millions of times over the years—alight with fury, filled with tears, glowing with happiness, diluted with pride… But now he stared into those depths with the knowledge that something better might come. That those eyes could look at him with _love_.

Granger ran her hands through her curly hair. Most of it was tied back, but some wayward strands were escaping. It only made her more fascinating. "I don't want a relationship right now, Draco. My career is only beginning, and to be honest, there's a lot of history that we need to sort out. But I want to know what chemistry there's supposed to be. If nothing else, I want to try and be someone… someone in your life. An acquaintance. Maybe even a friend."

She wanted to try. Merlin, she wanted to try with him, and all he could do was stare at her.

"I've been waiting for you to apologize," she added when he failed to respond. "For calling me all those names in school. For hurting my friends."

Draco's blood froze. Rage pricked at his insides, and he was happy for the familiarity of the feeling. "I think I've apologized enough," he snarled, thinking back on the weekly check-ins from Aurors, the extra security he had to go through, his trial… "I think I've been _punished_ enough."

It was extremely satisfying to see the look of astonishment on Granger's face, but his triumph was quickly buried by a wave of pain. He hadn't realized, really, exactly how much he craved what he knew Granger could potentially give him. Now that he knew she wanted the same thing from him, even on a smaller scale… he wasn't sure he could resist her offer.

But he wouldn't apologize again. He'd wronged her, he knew that. Still, he stood by what he'd said; he'd apologized enough. Draco wouldn't let the world continue to punish him for mistakes he was trying to atone.

"Yes," Granger whispered thoughtfully. "I suppose you have, haven't you?"

Caught off guard by her answer, Draco could only look at her.

Then she stood, hugging her arms around herself in a way that was strangely vulnerable. "Soulmates are supposed to love each other unconditionally. Did you really hate me then—assuming your feelings have changed now?"

Draco frowned sharply. "I wasn't supposed to like you," he said haltingly. "It was the idea of you I hated… I was always taught to hate people like you."

"But did you really?"

"I don't know, Granger," he answered truthfully. "I still don't know. Seventeen years of beliefs can't be wiped away in a night."

"Call me Hermione," Granger requested. "And yes, I suppose you're right." She paused a beat. "You're different than I remember you, Draco."

"Funny, you're exactly as I remember you."

A wry smile formed on Hermione's lips. "So proud and stubborn that I'd wait two years before speaking to you about this?"

"Yes. And also… mad enough to take potentially lethal risks."

Hermione stared at him. "You're not lethal to me, Draco."

Draco glanced at her upper arm. It was covered by her robe, but he knew that there was a scar there—given to her by his aunt Bellatrix. Hermione followed his gaze. Her hand closed over the spot where the wound lay.

"Don't blame yourself. This had nothing to do with you." She looked him in the eye. "You tried to save us that day. I haven't forgotten."

Draco shivered, unable to come up with anything to say. Hermione crossed the room and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Let's keep the past in the past," she suggested. "Let's just… let's just start over. See where this takes us. Is that all right with you?"

He looked down at her and realized that refusing would only lead to regret—and he'd had enough of that to last him a lifetime. And a do-over… it sounded pretty good. Slowly, he nodded.

"Yes," he murmured.

She didn't grin at him, but she did smile. Draco smiled awkwardly back.


End file.
